


What I See In Me

by HeaviDirtiSole



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Based on one of my dreams, Blurry's lower jaw is gone, For Spooky mama @Spooky_Sad, Gen, He has wings too, It's not that good because I never know where to go with these things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9843353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeaviDirtiSole/pseuds/HeaviDirtiSole
Summary: Blurryface has self doubt too.(also this might (not really??) spoil something in Spooky_Sad's fic, but i think you should be safe. it also might not make a lot of sense.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spooky_Sad](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Spooky_Sad).
  * Inspired by [Someone Else's Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444231) by [SpookySad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookySad/pseuds/SpookySad). 



> Based on a funky dream I had, and dedicated to the AMAZING fic and fic author,  
> Spooky_Sad 's Someone Else's Dreams - http://archiveofourown.org/works/7444231/chapters/16913062  
> read it  
> ok mom here ya go lmao  
> also!!! sorry for typos im the only one who proofreads these like 4 times lmao

Blurry steps up, walks to the edge of a large tree branch, flutters his wings diligently, hops off and ‘smiles’. He lands on his feet, his wings slapping against the cool forest floor. He stands up straight, his crimson eyes shining brightly, even when looking away from the sun. It’s humid here, at the bottom of the giant sequoias, and Blurry begins to sweat. 

What was once thick, black paint now ran over his hands and down his shirt from his neck like water. As if his sweat was a blood thinner. He listened to it drip-drop like an IV in a hospital he was once close friends with.

He takes off his red t-shirt, and discards it. If he wanted another one, he’d simply conjure it up. He can do _almost_ anything. Anything that is an almost useless task. Anything that can’t help him get toward his goal. So he has to cheat the system sometimes, it’s not like he’ll be punished for it. The last time someone tried to cheat _his_ system, it didn’t end well for the poor boy. However, that boy was nothing but a wiped away memory like a bug squashed on the window of a car. Sure, there are remnants, but you will never _see_ them or _find_ them and you won’t be convicted for murder. 

He continues walking through the forest, taking in the green, green, green of it all. He hates green. Reminds him of blue. The sky is gray as usual, it’s always gray, and has never been any different. 

The scorching heat from the sun streaming down between the trees mixed with the humidity of an early morning rain barely bothered him. However, it gave the feeling of slowly cooking in an oven or a gasoline fire. A chuckle, _more like a gurgle_ , shuddered through him and the bloody, messy liquids on his lower face spat out into the air when he tried to let the noise escape. 

 

Feeling dejected, knowing his face would never be its former glory, he rose from the bed of leaves that cradled the forest floor, now streaked with red and black. He smacked his too-big, black wings against the ground, causing tornadoes of leaves to spiral in all directions. 

He looked around, angrily, looking for something, just fucking _something_ to take his mind off his new appearance. He saw the shadows that he had conjured up, hiding behind sequoia roots and cowering in fear. “Fuck off.” he wanted to scream. Scream until his vocal cords shattered like an old T.V. that had been found in the woods by some rebellious teenagers with baseball bats. Shattered like how he felt being locked up in the confines of Tyler’s measly head when his own was _so_ much grander. 

Of course though, the forest falls silent sans the spastic flapping of Blurry’s wings. And the shadows stare. Because they aren’t afraid. Without Blurry’s threats or mocking say-so’s, he is not so terrifying. What they are afraid of, more like disgusted by, is Blurry’s lack of a lower jaw. Only half a face, ending right under his top lip and from there it is all torn muscle and blood. Thick, heavy blood. It reminds him of caramel, the way it dips slowly down his neck and his chest and falls off of his torso. It was not easing getting these damned wings, and it was pure Hell. 

He’s pissed, so he flies up, up, up, knocking into tree branches and surely busting up his left shoulder. He gets to the canopy, and looks at the damage he’s done to himself. Sure enough, he’s busted up his shoulder pretty bad. Bruises and cuts litter his tan skin, and it’s almost attractive. Almost. It’s always almost. _Almost_ attractive, almost successful, almost there. Maybe without his stupid fucking face, he’d be perfect. The idea of a mask crosses his mind, and he acts on it. It’s has to be an intimidating mask though. That’s Blurry’s forte. 

So he conjures up a rabbit mask. Rabbits are probably the least threatening thing in the world, And he _loves_ it. He sticks his black fingers into his shoulder wound and draws them out with dark, thick blood. He draws a line down the forehead of the rabbit, and makes an ‘X’ at the end. He slides the mask on, ‘smiling’ as he does. His messy face bubbles, forgetting he cannot truly smile. The mask is perfect, he thinks, grazing his hands around the fur of the rabbit. He smacks his wings against the tree top and giant ravens go flying, cawing as they do. 

 

Now he wasn’t distracted. He had nothing else to think about besides his main goal. And he was going to the ocean, to finally chop down that tree.


End file.
